


Hello, Goodbye, Hello

by ManaxadBattles



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Can be seen as romantic or platonic, Canon Compliant, Continuation of Ending, Gen, Holding Hands, M/M, Post-Canon, Present Tense, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2019-01-01 01:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12145821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManaxadBattles/pseuds/ManaxadBattles
Summary: Light lost. As he dies, he's reunited with an old friend. They talk of many things until they have to say goodbye once again.“It’ll be lonely, won’t it? You and I will be parting ways soon.”





	Hello, Goodbye, Hello

**Author's Note:**

> This is my interpretation of how the anime should've ended. It involves Light dying at the end of the anime and being reunited with L. They reminisce about what happened, how could've happened, and how they feel about each other. However, it is not a long reunion.

A man runs, occasionally stumbling in his need to get away. His suit is now torn and stained. He clutches his right shoulder, and blood drips down his arm and down his chest from the bullet wounds. He pants and sobs as the fading light of the sun flickers in and out of his vision. He remembers the boy he used to be—gifted, bored, and sick of the rotten world he lived in. And now, in this rotten world where only fools seem to win, he will die.

His name is Light Yagami, owner of the Death Note, the original Kira, and would-be god of the new world.

Light knows that the shinigami Ryuk will not wait for him to be arrested before writing his name in the notebook—rotting in prison waiting for him to die would be agony for them both. And Light would rather be saved from the humiliation. There’s only one person Light would accept defeat from and that person has been dead for five years.

He finds himself in a warehouse. Light slows to a lumber, leaning heavily against walls and railings. He makes it halfway up a flight of stairs before collapsing. He feels light-headed and exhausted. The blood doesn’t seem to stop trickling out of his body. It won’t be long now; Light could almost see Ryuk writing his name in his Death Note. In 40 seconds, Light will die from a heart attack.

For the first time in a long time, Light thinks about the people he’s affected: his family, the task force, Misa…but he mostly thinks about L. L, who wanted nothing more than to see Light—Kira—executed, was awkward and brilliant and Light’s best friend. Even at L’s most petulant, Light reveled at their private war, constantly trying to outsmart the other and trying to exploit any weaknesses they could find.

Light would have accepted his victory because he was L and L was the best thing that came from being Kira.

As his heart lurched in his chest for the last time, Light could almost see L standing in front of him. Even in death, L still wears his white long sleeved shirt and baggy jeans, his feet remain uncovered by socks and shoes even against the hard concrete. His fluffy black hair covers his eyes, and Light knew that if he brushed L’s bangs back he would see the dark circles under his impossibly dilated eyes.

Light closes his eyes and breathes his final breath. He is finally free from his boredom and the rotten nature of the world.

“Wake up, Light. It’s time to go,” L says, his voice still as soft and pondering as Light remembers.

Light opens his eyes and L is before him, holding out his hand. Light reaches out with his right hand, and lets L help him off the stairs. He suddenly feels eighteen again as he looks into L’s eyes. His gray and black eyes even now challenge him and try to penetrate into his soul and mind finding any evidence that Light could be Kira. Although, Light’s starting to think that’s just how L is; they both know for a fact that he’s Kira. L died by his hands after all.

Speaking of, isn’t Light supposed to be…?

He turns around and sees his body still lying on the stairs. His clothes are ripped and bloodied, his right arm laying awkwardly at his side. His skin is pale underneath the smears of blood, and his chest is still. He looks terrible in death, not at all godlike.

L tugs gently at his hand, making Light look back at him. His gaze is sympathetic.

“Leave it,” he says. “You don’t need it anymore.” He leads Light away.

Light nods and follows. Something inside of him feels light; it almost feels like happiness.

“I suppose you speak from experience,” he teases. He sees the corners of L’s mouth lift slightly.

“You could say that,” L replies and rubs his thumb at his bottom lip.

The pair of them continue to walk together as the mortal world fades away behind them. Colors become gray and muted, and sounds become silence. Darkness is the only thing in sight, but neither man cared. They walk and hold hands because in death everyone is equal and nothing matters. Light can feel his fingertips tingle.

“So Light,” L begins, “how does it feel to lose?”

Light grimaces. Well, nothing did matter, but of course L had to rub his defeat in his face.

“You know, L,” he retorts, “you lost first.”

“’Lose the battle, win the war,’” L replies. “Isn’t that how the saying goes?”

Light scoffs. “As if Near didn’t win by dumb luck. I could never accept the victory of someone who couldn’t defeat me himself.”

L frowns. “But Near did defeat you, Mello, too” he points out.

“Your successors were a joke,” Light sneers. “Neither of them come close to you and they never will.”

L rubs his bottom lip in thought. “Perhaps, but Near is still technically a child—he still has room to grow as a detective. And though Mello was rash, he did have potential.” He gazes sidelong at Light. “I believe your anger is not from my successors defeating you, but because it was not I who defeated you. Am I correct to assume so?”

Light turns his head away from L. “Is that so hard to believe?” he mumbled. “You’re the only one I consider to be my equal.” Even quieter, he adds, “Besides, I missed you; I didn’t want your clones.”

L squeezes his hand in acknowledgement. The tingling from Light’s fingertips spreads into his hands.

“Things could’ve ended up differently,” L says, “with the Death Note.”

Light hums in agreement. “I didn’t have to pick up the Death Note. If I didn’t, the world would be the same as it ever was, I would probably still be alive, and I probably never would have met you.” Light’s eyebrows furrowed. “I can’t bring myself to regret it though, even if the world does revert back to before Kira came.”

Looking back at L, Light sees him blink comically as if he hadn’t consider that kind of universe.

“Yes, I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” L says. “I more meant in the way that someone else could have picked up the notebook. Someone like me.”

“You?” Light says, incredulous. L nods.

“Suppose I did pick up the notebook and eventually decide to become Kira like you did,” L suggests. “Tell me, Light, if I had become Kira, who would’ve stopped me?”

It was a scenario Light had never considered. He had never thought L to be that kind of person—to take the lives of people into his own hands. But when he thinks about it, if L had become Kira instead of Light, he had no doubt that L would succeed where Light did not.

“It would be pretty ironic,” L continues. “To think, if criminals started dying with no explanation, authorities would expect the greatest detective in the world to get involved. But little do they know, their savior is the criminal killer they’re after. No one would think to suspect him. It would be the perfect crime.”

Light remains quiet. Yes, it would be the perfect crime. Evil would be erased from the world and L would rule as god. Just what was L trying to prove?

“To be honest, I don’t think I would’ve minded you becoming Kira,” Light says. “You would eliminate evil from the world and nothing could stand against you. My only regret would be not being able to do it myself.” He shoots L a snarky grin.

L does not return it. “I suppose it was too much to ask for Kira to be repentant.”

Lifting his nose up in the air, Light says, “Why would I ever be repentant? I was making the world a better place free of corruption. I did more than you or the police ever could.”

L squeezes his hand a little tighter than necessary, the tingles in Light’s hand rocketing up his arm. “You were bored and arrogant—nothing more. In the end, the world will go back to being how it was like Kira was never there in the first place.”

Light returns the forcefulness of the hand squeeze. “My reign would have lasted longer if you had just joined forces with me. Like you said, you would’ve been unstoppable as Kira. If you had seen sense, we both could be alive and well right now.”

Ruefully, L smiled. “As if you would have given me the choice.”

The squeezes soften, but the tingles continue to travel throughout Light’s body. At first, he had thought the tingles were just his happiness at being reunited with L, but now he’s not so sure.

Something’s wrong.

“L, I feel strange,” Light says.

Suddenly, L’s face falls. He doesn’t look him in the eye, and he doesn’t question Light’s statement.

L knows what’s happening, but this brings no comfort to Light.

Light stops in his tracks, but L still refuses to look at him. The tingles grow into a dull buzz, droning throughout his body and head.

“I know you know what’s happening!” Light half shouts over the buzzing in his ears. “Tell me!”

“You already know,” L replies, quietly. “’The human who uses the notebook can neither go to heaven nor hell.’”

Finally, L looks at him. His eyes are as sad as the night he died. He knew what was going to happen to him then too. Maybe not specifics, but L knew that night would be his last.

_“It’ll be lonely, won’t it?”_ He had murmured. _“You and I will be parting ways soon.”_

It had been lonely. Light didn’t realize at the time of L’s death, but being surrounded by mediocre people for so long started to mess with his psyche. Having L back now is a dream Light didn’t know he had.

But now they’ll be parting ways again. And this time, they’ll never see each other again.

Light feels himself literally fall apart—his phantom skin falling away like dust. Even so, L still doesn’t let go of his hand.

“You may not have regretted picking up the notebook, but I wish you never had,” he confesses. Light could see L swallow thickly as if trying to remove a lump. The tears that begin to build in those gray and black eyes blow Light away.

“The presence you’ve had on my life,” L goes on, “is more than I ever dared to imagine. I’ve never felt so connected to someone before you. You were my greatest enemy,” his voice cracked, “but you were my best friend. I would hate to live in a world without you in it.”

“Because you would be bored?” Light questions, silently begging L to not say otherwise.

“Because I would be lonely,” L answers, confirming Light’s fears. L drops his head, either in shame or resignation, Light wasn’t sure. “And that is a fate I can no longer bear with.”

His skin falls away faster and faster. Light knows that in a matter of moments, he will cease to even exist. This was something he knew would happen eventually. But L…what would happen to L?

In a last ditch effort, to do what he wasn’t sure, Light drops L’s hand and hugs him close. L stiffens, but quickly relaxes in his hold.

What does he say in moments like this? How does he make this situation better? In the end, it wouldn’t matter because L knows better than to listen to empty words and promises. So they hold each other because what else can they possibly do?

In death, nothing is supposed to matter anymore. But now, everything does and it’s ending too quickly for Light’s liking.

The droning and the dust reaches Light’s mind, and he feels like he’s dying all over again.

“Goodbye,” L whispers, “my friend.”

And he’s gone.

“Rise, new shinigami,” says a booming voice.

The new shinigami opens his blood red eyes. He looks down at his skeletal hands where he holds a Death Note, its weight familiar against his palm. In his mind, he can see the faint memories of a previous life; the most vivid memory is of a man with sad gray and black eyes, but he could not say who he was or why he knows him. Not that it matters.

The shinigami with the booming voices lures up above him in a throne of bones. His red eyes glint maliciously and his ever-present grin seem to mock him.

“Welcome to the world of shinigami,” he leered. “…Kira.”


End file.
